


Rotten

by Sohotthateveryonedied



Series: Whumptober 2019 [25]
Category: Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Child Abandonment, Child Neglect, Dick Grayson is a Good Brother, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Prompt: Abandoned, Tim Drake Gets a Hug, Tim Drake Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 03:21:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21190727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sohotthateveryonedied/pseuds/Sohotthateveryonedied
Summary: Dick learns about Tim's home situation and is Not Pleased.





	Rotten

**Author's Note:**

> Day 26: Abandoned

“You sure your parents aren’t going to notice the war wound?” Dick asks, mouth so full of pickles and mayonnaise that the words are barely intelligible.   
  
“Nah, they’re in Australia right now,” Tim says.   
  
“Still? Haven’t they already been gone for a few weeks?”   
  
“Only two.” Tim shrugs on his shirt, letting the fabric drop to cover the bandages wrapped around his torso. Just a lucky slash left over from the night’s patrol. He winces as he moves, but it’s muted. Dick idly wonders if the kid will ever grow out of that—of hiding pain.   
  
“When are they coming back?”   
  
“Next Thursday, I think. Though they might stretch it another week if they get really busy.”   
  
Dick frowns, chewing thoughtfully. “They leave you alone for that long? Who’s taking care of you?”   
  
Tim fiddles with a tangled knot on one of his sneakers, tongue poked out in concentration. “The housekeeper comes over twice a week. And I spend most of my time at school or doing Robin stuff, anyway.”   
  
He gives up on his shoelaces and looks up at Dick pleadingly. Dick chuckles, taking pity on the kid. He comes over and hands his sandwich off to Tim, who takes a bite while he watches Dick untangle the laces for him.   
  
Still—Dick doesn’t show it, but his head is spinning after what he’s been told. Tim’s parents leave him alone for that long? Even counting school days, that’s still a hell of a lot of time for a thirteen-year-old to spend by himself.   
  
Maybe Dick is just too extroverted to understand, but deep down he knows that _ can’t _ be right. Kids—even headstrong preteens like Tim—need parental figures around, whether they like it or not. He’s seen enough messed-up kids during his BPD shifts to know that fact all too well.   
  
Something needs to be done about this.

* * *

  
  
The next afternoon Dick knocks on the heavy, ornate door of Drake Manor. It feels as though he’s standing at the entrance to a secret lair, rather than his pseudo-little brother’s house. Maybe it’s the fact that he knows about the neglect lying within that makes it so intimidating.   
  
He half-expects to be met by a butler, but instead it’s Tim himself who answers the door. The boy is clad in a t-shirt and jeans with his feet bare and his feather-like hair scruffy. It’s the most casual Dick has ever seen him.   
  
He never noticed how high-strung Tim always is until now, when he sees the easy slouch in his shoulders; the unfiltered ease that comes with being at home. He wonders if he’s ever seen the kid at a time when he didn’t feel the need to be on high alert.   
  
The stiffness is starting to return, though, as he takes in the sight before him. “Dick? What are you doing here?”   
  
Dick lifts his bag of first-aid supplies. “Alfred sent me to check up on you. Figured you might need help redressing your wound.” Only a half-lie. Alfred said it could wait until patrol tonight, but Dick was persistent in offering to drop by and take care of it himself.   
  
_ “Any excuse to see the little mongrel,” _ he said with a grin. He figured it would be best to do some recon on his own before bringing The Adults into what he’s fairly sure is a textbook case of emotional neglect. Can’t get too ahead of himself until he knows for sure what’s going on.   
  
Tim blinks. “Oh. Okay.” He opens the door wider. “Come in.” He turns and pads back into the house, footsteps silent even in his own home. Dick follows, closing the door behind him.   
  
Dick has been in the Drake abode a handful of times in his life—wealthy parties and pretentious gatherings Bruce used to drag him to when he was younger. Mainly he would catch a nap under the snack table or make Bruce take him home as soon as he got bored.   
  
It was an escape for them both, and only now Dick is beginning to suspect Bruce only brought him along that way he would have an excuse to duck out early. Crafty old man.   
  
He’d never paid much attention to the house itself, but now Dick finds himself tracing every detail. It’s not as big as Wayne Manor, but it seems to flaunt its wealth in ways the manor never has.   
  
There are paintings and artifacts all over the place; some expensive, and some only beckoning the illusion of luxury. The whole place feels more like a display than a home, which sends shivers creeping down Dick’s spine. It’s so...cold. Empty. Soulless.   
  
Dick tries to find something—anything that might shout: _ Tim Drake lives here. _ A candy bar wrapper. A sticky soda ring on the coffee table. A book out of place. But there’s nothing. In fact, were Tim not actively present, you wouldn’t be able to tell that a child lives here at all. It’s eerie.   
  
Tim doesn’t seem to notice. “You didn’t have to come all the way here, you know. I could have handled it myself.”   
  
Dick shrugs. “I had the time.”   
  
They go upstairs to Tim’s room, and Dick has never been happier to see a mess in his entire life. The place is a goddamn catastrophe. Clothes and discarded papers litter the floor, and the wastebasket is overflowing with empty energy drink cans.   
  
Alfred would have a heart attack if he knew Tim lived like this, but Dick can’t be anything but relieved to know that at least one room in this empty house shows evidence of life.   
  
Tim brushes a pile of space magazines off his bed and sits down. Dick follows suit. “I’m pretty sure this room haunts Alfred’s nightmares,” he says, eyeing a pile of pencil shavings on the floor that he’s pretty sure is arranged to imitate the Mona Lisa.   
  
Tim looks around as if he never noticed the mess. “Huh. Probably.” He shrugs it off. “All right, let’s get this over with.” He lifts his shirt up to his rib cage so that Dick can work on the injury cutting across his side. Alfred’s stitchwork seems to have held up, so redressing it won’t take long.   
  
Dick starts unwinding the gauze wrapped around his middle. “So...how often are your parents actually home? Because, no offense, but this place feels like it belongs in an episode of _ Buzzfeed Unsolved.” _   
  
“They’re here sometimes,” Tim says, oblivious to the scrutinization as Dick prods the wound, checking for signs of infection. “They get busy a lot.”   
  
Dick swipes a layer of ointment over the sutures. “Well sure, but you’re their kid. Shouldn’t they be taking care of you?”   
  
Tim wrinkles his nose. “I can take care of myself.”   
  
Dick bites back a comment about how _ no thirteen-year-old boy should have to take care of himself. _ He knows Tim will take it as an insult. So instead he goes with, “Don’t you get lonely?”   
  
“I have books. CDs. WiFi.”   
  
“Well, gee, sounds like you’ve got everything figured out, then. At this rate you’ll have your own apartment by next year.”   
  
Tim rolls his eyes. “Not everyone grows up in a circus, you know. Yeah, it can get quiet around here, but I don’t mind it so much.”   
  
Dick starts winding fresh bandages around Tim’s torso, clicking his tongue. “Still. I don’t like the idea of you puttering around this place by yourself. It’s not good for you.”   
  
“I fight crime every night in a bird costume, but being home alone is where you draw the line?”   
  
Dick snorts. “Fine, I’ll give you that one.” He finishes with the bandages and leans back on the bed, propped up on his elbows. Tim pulls his shirt back down and scoots back so he’s sitting crossed-legged on the bed, facing Dick.   
  
“You know Alfred still does my laundry?” Dick says. “Every other weekend I drive up from Bludhaven and go to the manor so he can wash my clothes for me.”   
  
“That’s just because you can’t do laundry right,” Tim says with a playful smile.   
  
“Maybe. But I will tell you that the main reason I do it is so I have an excuse to come back home and spend time with family. Even if it’s just staying for dinner or giving Bruce advice on his latest emotional crisis. Being by yourself gets old after a while, whether you admit it or not.”   
  
“Maybe for you, but I’m used to it.” That shouldn’t make Dick’s heart ache as much as it does.   
  
“You shouldn’t _ have _ to be used to it.”   
  
“Why not? Everyone needs a break, and if my parents need a break from me, then they should have it.”   
  
Dick sits up. “Are you serious?” He searches Tim’s face for something—emotion, maybe. A hint he’s lying or that he doesn’t truly believe what he said. But there’s nothing of the sort—just unwavering obstinacy.   
  
“Tim,” he says as firmly as he can, “that’s not how this works. _ No _ parent should leave for weeks at a time the way yours do.”   
  
Tim looks at him funny, as though he spoke in Mandarin. “Why not?”   
  
“Because that’s textbook child neglect? Do you have any idea how many kids and teenagers I’ve met in Blud who’ve suffered hardcore emotional abuse in the form of neglect? No parent should _ ever _ abandon their kids—no matter what.”   
  
“Well, yeah,” Tim allows, “but this is totally different.”   
  
“How?”   
  
Tim shrugs. “Because some people are just rotten.” And Dick is about to agree that _ yes, _ Tim’s parents are _ very _ rotten, but then Tim keeps going. “It’s not their fault they got stuck with me.”   
  
Dick wants to cry when he realizes what Tim is implying. A knot wells and sticks in his throat, even more so when Tim doesn’t even _ react _ to his own words _ . _ There’s no sorrow or hurt; just a numb sort of resignation, like he thinks he’s simply reporting the facts like a good boy.   
  
“Tim...no,” Dick says, stunned. “No, _ god—” _ Without thinking he pulls Tim against his chest and hugs him. “That’s not how it works at _ all.” _   
  
Tim hisses quietly under his touch and Dick remembers, _ duh, the kid’s got a two-inch gash in his side. _ He loosens his grip just enough so Tim can squirm into a more comfortable position, but he’s stiff. He’s stiff and confused and who the _ fuck _ let this wonderful, amazing kid think he’s a burden on his own damn _ parents? _   
  
“You’re not rotten,” Dick says, chin resting on Tim’s tiny head. “Your parents are _ wrong _ to leave you alone like this. You did nothing to deserve it, and it’s _ definitely _ not your fault, okay? You’re a great kid, Tim. And if your mom and dad can’t see that, then they don’t deserve you.”   
  
He pulls back just enough so he can see Tim’s eyes. “Do you understand me?” Tim looks stricken, his cheeks red and eyes wide, but he nods, and only then does Dick relax. “Good.”   
  
He lets his arms fall and Tim immediately wriggles away from him. Not far, but enough so that they’re no longer touching. One of these days, Dick promises he’s going to get Tim used to being hugged.   
  
“Now go pack some clothes,” he says without giving himself time to consider. His instincts haven’t proven him wrong yet. “And your school backpack, too.”   
  
Tim’s brows wrinkle. “For what?”   
  
Dick stands and starts packing the medical supplies back up. “You’re staying at the manor until your parents come home. Alf’ll set up a room for you.”   
  
Tim waves his hands. “Dick, it’s really fine. You don’t have to—”   
  
“Nope,” he says, cutting him off with a finger-wag. “No arguments. And before you say anything— _ no, _ you won’t be a burden, and Bruce will be happy to have you around. Okay?”   
  
Tim’s chewing his lip. “Are you sure?” And Dick could melt. Every bone in his body wants to hug him again, but he restrains himself. Baby steps.   
  
“Definitely. Now come on. I’ll even introduce you to my old comics collection.”   
  
Slowly, Tim starts to nod. “Okay.” 

**Author's Note:**

> [Feel free to mosey on down to my Tumblr!](http://sohotthateveryonedied.tumblr.com/)


End file.
